


Life Size Ghosts

by northernmongrel



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Ghosts, Haunting, M/M, Post-Overwatch, cabins in the middle of nowhere, mentioned death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 23:12:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10056155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/northernmongrel/pseuds/northernmongrel
Summary: Jesse buries Gabriel, but decides not to leave.





	

**Author's Note:**

> something different, something sad. (advisory; death mention)

Jesse should have left a long time ago. 

 

_Gabriel knows this_. He’s been permitting that one pesky notion to gnaw away at his mind. To fester within his chest, like a raging infection; hot and aching. 

 

The jacaranda tree grows atop a hill. It’s roots sunk deep within the sweet earth, holding it’s knotted trunk upright. The branches are scraggly—the bark gnarled to touch. But the lavender flowers that bloom are fragrant. The petals velvety and lush. 

 

If Jesse has chosen to stay, than at the least Gabriel is thankful this tree is the gunslinger’s damnation. 

 

The spring morning is crisp, the skies cold and blue. Gabriel stands beneath the jacaranda, his face bare to the bright morning light. He turns his head to the sound of a branch’s snap. The lazy whistle of the gunslinger who’s ambling up the hill, morning coffee in one hand, cigarette in the other. He watches Jesse approach. He notices the stiff gait, a tick in Jesse’s right hip. 

 

“Mornin’ sunshine.” Jesse says after they’re in hearing distance. 

 

Gabriel nods, permits Jesse to reach out to wrap an arm around his waist and press a kiss against the hollow of his cheek. Jesse’s mouth is warm, chestnut eyes soft. Jesse steps back, taking a sip of coffee. Steam rolls from the mug’s bellows, whisked off by the morning air. 

 

“—How you feeling today?” Jesse asks, apparently in the mood for shallow conversation. 

 

Gabriel doesn't mind, they have very little otherwise to talk about at this point, “Fine,” he replies, “Nothing to complain about. Did you sleep well last night?”

 

“Yeah. Just dandy. Only woke up once, maybe twice” Jesse shrugs, blowing more steam off his coffee, “You should join me again some time. Down at the cabin ah’ mean.”

 

Gabriel rolls his shoulders, growling softly at the stiffness that never leaves him, “Don’t get your hopes up.” he replies. 

 

“Awe, don’t be like that sunshine. I cleaned it up real nice for ya’ down there. Fresh sheets. Stocked up on the preserves.” Jesse adds thoughtfully. And then for a moment, the gunslinger’s eyes are somewhere else. Jesse’s hand pauses, his chest ceases to rise and fall. Gabriel immediately nabs the other man by the elbow, gripping tight, snatching Jesse back to the here-and-now. 

 

“You were saying?” Gabriel clears his throat.

 

“Yeah- _yeah,_ right.” Jesse blinks, squinting into the harsh morning light, “You should spend the night. It’s only right down the hill. You could leave anytime, ah’ wouldn't mind you know.” Jesse falls into rambles all too easily, and Gabriel listens. 

 

Gabriel had spent the night once before. Three months and seven days ago. Down at Jesse’s cabin, but a three minute walk from beneath the jacaranda tree. Jesse tends to the place; washes the windowpanes, trims the dessert brush that creeps up miraculously overnight. Sweeps the wooden floors and keeps the wood stove stocked for the wintertime. Washes the dishes. Dusts the shelves. Does the laundry. The gunslinger is content in his idleness. 

 

Gabriel _hates it with scalding passion._

 

Jesse should have left a long time ago. 

 

I

 

It’s a warm summer evening. The sky a dusky indigo, riddled with sparkling pinpricks.

 

Jesse had planned a special dinner; spiced rice and broiled meat. Fresh cilantro and bright citrus. They’d agreed on a bottle of half-decent wine (merlot), to which Jesse had has already drank half to himself. 

 

Gabriel leans up against the tree, one arm draped around Jesse’s shoulders. In the other, he’s holding the wine bottle. When Jesse reaches his fingers out for the glass bottle, Gabriel lifts it out of reach. He snorts, pressing his nose and mouth into Jesse’s auburn hair. 

 

“You’ve drank enough tonight.” Gabriel shakes his head. 

 

“Common darling, you know it’s a special occasion.” Jesse sighs back, utterly content to just laze against the older man. 

 

Gabriel takes a mouthful of wine, swallowing it back too quickly. It tastes sour in his mouth, coating his molars. He quickly hands the bottle back to Jesse who take it without fuss.

 

Crickets chirp from within the dry dessert scrub.

 

“So hey—” Jesse starts up, fingering the rim of the wine bottle, eyes focused on a droplet of alcohol that’s welling there, “—You wanna celebrate? Do something special. It’s been a year, and—”

 

“No.” Gabriel replies abruptly, interrupting Jesse’s idealism. 

 

Jesse exhales loudly, licking his bottom lip, “You shot that down mighty quick.”

 

“Another time.” Gabriel states, easing the hardness of his words by soft touches to Jesse’s chest. Tracing the soft flannel of Jesse’s shirt, seeking out the softness of his stomach. 

 

“Wha’ you mean next year? Mighty long time to wait.” Jesse scoffs. 

 

“I’d hope you’ll be gone by then.” Gabriel replies. 

 

Jesse’s spine stiffens and he sits upright. Gabriel’s arms are left empty, his fingers without warmth. 

 

“Don’t go spouting shit like that, not today. Not tomorrow. _Not ever_.” Jesse grimaces, the bridge of his nose crinkled. The last rays of sunshine catch the gunslinger’s eyes, warming the colour like sugar on the stove. 

 

“This isn’t good for you.” Gabriel says. 

 

“You ain’t got no right telling me what’s good for me, or whats bad. Or where I should hang my hat, or who ah’ aught to come home to.” Jesse turns his face away, “Ah’ made my choice. We both did.”

 

“Yeah, and I’d hoped… I’d hoped you’d have left this time last year. _You were supposed to leave_.” Gabriel speaks lowly, looking up at Jesse. 

 

He has no shame. No cause for humiliation at his words. 

 

It’s Jesse who can’t meet Gabriel’s gaze. Who swallows thickly and wipes his nose with the back of his hand. Gabriel watches the slide of his adam’s apple beneath sun-touched skin. 

 

“We’ll talk ‘bout this tomorrow. I’m calling it a night.” Jesse says, and starts back down the hill. Bottle of merlot in hand. 

 

Gabriel watches, as he always does. The gunslinger retreating back to the cabin. Ten minutes later, the lights are dimmed through the windows. Freshly washed laundry flutters in the stifling summer breeze. 

 

The festering leaves his chest that evening, replaced instead by the coolness of defeat.

 

The date is September 1st; the memorial of his death. 

 

II. 

 

“I just… can’t see you anywhere else Gabe if ah’m being honest with you.” Jesse says, scratching the back of his neck, cigarette between his teeth. 

 

Gabriel stands ten feet off, walking circles around the spot. He kneels down, feeling the earth between his fingers. He stands, looking upwards to flowering jacaranda tree. Then he looks back at Jesse who’s staring back at him. 

 

They’ve been to a hundred places. Each place had been inadequate in some way; inappropriate or unworthy by Jesse’s standards. But Gabriel’s tired. His patience grown thin. He needs rest. _He needs this plot of earth._

 

So they settle here. There’s a cabin at the foot of the hill for Jesse to live in, to stay with Gabriel for a short while. _A couple months,_ Jesse assures _._ They’ll be far out of anyone’s way, the nearest highway is fifty miles off to the south. 

 

That night, Jesse takes care of him. Washes his sickly skin, blight with years of SEP treatments. Ruined by Talon’s attempts at keeping him alive past what had been medically viable. Jesse works the soft soap into his scalp and down his back. Kisses the flesh of the scars that mark his body. Combs his dark curls back against his neck. 

 

The next morning, Jesse carries him up the hill bridal style. Gabriel’s legs had given out the day before, and his wraith form had evaded him for some time now. So Jesse places Gabriel down beneath the blooming tree, and he settles himself on his knees. 

 

Jesse takes out Peacekeeper, loading her with a single round. 

 

Gabriel watches through bloodshot eyes. Smoke seeps from between his lips. He keeps eye contact with Jesse as he approaches. The blunt of the revolver is pressed against his forehead. Gabriel breaths a sigh of relief. He tilts his head to the skies above; glimpses of early September sunlight, scattered between lavender petals. 

 

“Gabriel… sunshine…” Jesse speaks, voice hitching. The _click_ of a safety. But there is no tremble in the gunslinger’s hand as his index slides to the trigger. 

 

“ _Mi sol_.” Gabriel breathes, eyes closed. 

 

c _rack_. 

 

III. 

 

Jesse stays long after Gabriel is buried in the sweet earth. A month passes—three, an entire season. He visits Gabriel most days. When the gunslingers not beneath the tree with Gabriel, he’s in the cabin passing time like an old man would. Jesse makes coffee, smokes on the porch, whittles away at dry cherry wood. Jesse took to idleness like a fish to brook water. 

 

Perhaps, after a lifetime of hardship, the gunslinger needs this.

 

Gabriel watches smoke drift lazily from the cabin’s chimney during the winter. In spring, Jesse opens up the windows for fresh air. 

 

Jesse’s in his fifties. No family—no friends, per se. A wife would've been nice, and perhaps a child. With grubby hands and a rosy smile. Someone to keep the gunslinger company apart from Gabriel during those stark winter nights and blistering days.

 

Gabriel can only watch from beneath the jacaranda tree. Brushing lavender petals off his shoulder and counting the leaves before they inevitably drop next autumn. 

 

_Jesse should have left a long time ago._

 


End file.
